


Behind All Things Are Reasons

by likeasugarcube



Series: The Boys I Mean Are Not Refined [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Gen, Hipster Steve Rogers, M/M, Pining, Punk Bucky Barnes, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8896036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeasugarcube/pseuds/likeasugarcube
Summary: Punk!Bucky/Hipster!Steve Coffeeshop AU





	

Steve never sets an alarm on his days off. He loves being able to wake up slowly, gently blinking away the sleep from his eyes. Today is no different. Sunlight bleeds into the room from around the edges of their worn shades. He rolls onto his back and enjoys the quiet peacefulness for a moment. Eventually he’ll have to get out of bed, he should probably get dressed, do something productive. But right now, right now he can just lay there. He listens to the sound of the cars going by outside and Bucky’s soft snuffling sleep sounds. When his phone buzzes with a text message, it’s time to get up. 

He sits up and glances toward the blurry shape in Bucky's bed. He reaches for his glasses and his best friend comes into focus. He picks up his phone and slides it open. He’s probably the last person in Brooklyn without a smart phone and he does not care. He’s keeping it until it falls apart in his hands. 

It’s only a little after 7 o’clock and the text is from Darcy. She wants to know where the extra receipt paper is. He types out a response – in the box on the left on the top shelf of the storage cabinet – and sets it back down. He stretches and throws the blanket back. He’s still got morning wood and would love to lie back down and take care of it but, well. He’s not exactly alone. Bucky isn’t a light sleeper or anything, but Steve still feels weird about it. 

Once, and only once, Bucky brought a one night stand home. It was late and he must have thought Steve was asleep. He wasn’t. It was even worse in the morning when Steve got up for work just as the girl was trying to sneak out quietly. Steve made her toast for breakfast before he left. Bucky hasn’t brought anyone home since then, but there are occasional nights when he comes home late or not at all. Steve doesn’t blame him. Privacy isn’t a luxury they can afford at the moment, but it sure would be nice.

He jerks off in the shower. He thinks about the girl Bucky brought home that night. Thinks about the way she moaned and how she looked in Bucky’s t-shirt the next morning. He thinks about the guy in his painting class that he dated senior year and that cute girl with the lip piercing who gets a cappuccino and a blueberry muffin every day. He thinks about Bucky’s tattoos and the way his arms look when he’s working on his bike.

It’s been a long time since Steve’s had sex. Too long. He needs to work on his social life. It was somehow easier to juggle school and work and friends back when he was in college, despite having even less time to do so. Natasha is always telling him he’s going to grow old before his time, but some days he thinks he might already be there. 

Sometimes, he thinks about the plans they made when they were just kids, building blanket forts together. The apartment they were going to get together and the places they’d travel and the adventures they’d have. He wonders if Bucky is ever disappointed in how their lives turned out.

When he's done with his shower, he walks quietly back down the hall in just his boxers, a towel slung over his shoulders. On the off chance that Sam or Nat are actually still asleep, he'd hate to wake them.

Bucky is sprawled out across his bed, taking up the maximum amount of space possible. That much hasn’t changed at all from when they were kids. His hair is splayed out on the pillow, his tattered Ramones t-shirt is rucked up to his belly, exposing the tattoos on his hips. He looks so beautiful and peaceful, it makes Steve’s chest ache. He finishes drying off his hair and throws his towel at the foot of the futon. 

His sketchbook is on the floor next to his nightstand. He picks it up as he climbs back onto the futon. He flips past old sketches and finds a worn down pencil tucked between two blank pages. He blocks out a quick sketch and then goes back to start on the details. Bucky’s likeness has just started to emerge from the mess of lines and shapes when he rolls over, pulling blanket with him as he goes. Just as well, the point on Steve’s pencil has worn down and he has no clue where his sharpener is.

\--

Steve makes pancakes for breakfast. Sam comes downstairs just as he’s pulling the first one out of the pan.

“Are these just for you and Bucky or can I get in on this action?”

“Help yourself,” Steve says. Even when it was just him and Bucky, he always made enough to feed a small army. Leftovers are good. He breaks the misshapen pancake in two and hands a piece to Sam. “What do you think?”

“I think if Bucky doesn’t put a ring on it soon, I might beat him to the punch,” Sam says.

If anyone in that apartment is going to snag a spouse with their cooking skills it’s definitely not going to be Steve. In fact, it’s probably going to be Sam. Before they moved in with him Steve’s cooking skills were limited to “things I can do with pasta” and “things I can do to make grilled cheese more awesome.”

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” Steve says, more to himself than to Sam, as he pours more batter into the frying pan.

“You’d damn well better. Do you think I propose marriage to just anyone who feeds me?”

Steve laughs. He fries up enough pancakes for Sam and pulls the syrup out of the cabinet.

“These are strictly platonic pancakes,” he says as he sets down the plate in front of Sam. “I don’t want to lead you on.”

Sam fakes a distressed sigh as he takes the syrup. 

“I guess I can accept that,” he says. “But if you learn to bake I may be forced to fight for you.”

Steve shakes his head. Sam is a giant flirt and Steve doesn’t necessarily mind. He’s living in an apartment full of attractive people and he’s not sleeping with any of them. His life is a challenge some days. He fries up enough pancakes for himself and sits down across the table from Sam.

“Big plans for the day off?” Sam asks between bites.

“Oh you know, the usual,” Steve answers. “Dishes, some sketching, try to find out who killed Laura Palmer.”

It’s a little sad that the most exciting day of his week is the one where he gets to laze about and do nothing, but at least it gets a laugh out of Sam. 

“Netflix and pancakes, my friend,” Steve says, “They’re the perfect combination.”

“There’s no arguing with that. I’ve got four seasons of Fringe that have been calling my name for months.”

“You just have to commit, Sam.” Steve collects their plates and brings them to the sink. He just needs his sketchbook and he’s ready for an afternoon of becoming one with the couch. “Commit to a day of non-productivity.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sam disappears back upstairs to get ready for work and Steve starts on the dishes. It’s quick work and when he’s done, he pours himself a glass of iced tea and gets comfortable with the remote.

“Don’t relax too hard,” Sam calls on his way out the door.

\--

Bucky wanders downstairs an hour later. He’s still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stumbles into the kitchen.

“Pancakes?” he asks hopefully.

“Sit down,” Steve says. He’s just starting episode three and halfway through sketch of the Log Lady but he puts down his sketchbook and reaches for the remote. He pauses on Audrey and Special Agent Dale Cooper sitting down to breakfast. It seems appropriate.

“Sorry,” Bucky mumbles sleepily. “Didn’t mean to interrupt the Twin Peaks marathon.”

“That’s the beauty of the pause button, Buck. It’ll still be there in a few minutes.”

He pulls the remaining pancake batter out of the fridge and turns on the stove. Bucky is only slightly more awake as Steve sets the plate of pancakes down in front of him.

“You’re lucky there was some batter left,” he says. 

It’s obviously a lie and they both know it. He had enough to share with Sam, but he’s not going to pretend that he didn’t decide on pancakes with Bucky in mind. Of course there was going to be enough left for him. 

“These are amazing, Stevie.”

Steve smiles as he ruffles Bucky’s already messy hair. Bucky only calls him that when he’s half asleep or drunk.

“I know,” Steve says before flopping back onto the couch. “Leave the dishes in the sink, don’t want you to be late for work on my account.”

He looks up from his sketchbook when he hears the sound of dishes clattering. Bucky is wandering towards him. He stops at the arm of the couch, rests his hands on Steve’s shoulders as he leans down.

“What are you working on?”

“Just doodles,” Steve says.

Bucky scoffs.

“Looks great.”

He drops a kiss on the top of Steve’s head and Steve tries to not think about how easy it would be to turn around and kiss him properly. 

“You don’t even know what it is,” he says instead.

“Shut up and take a compliment, jerk.”

“Go get ready for work.”

Bucky flicks his ear before he walks away. He’s out of reach before Steve can get the chance to retaliate. Just this time, he’s willing to forego revenge for the sake of his comfy spot on the couch.

“I’m off,” Bucky calls a couple minutes later, thundering down the stairs. “Make me something good for dinner.”

“Make me some money and we’ll talk!” Steve calls back. He can just make out Bucky’s laughter over the sound of the television.

Natasha never comes down, so she’s either not in the apartment or she’s sleeping like the dead. It’s anyone’s guess. Steve leaves the leftover batter in the fridge with a post-it note telling her to help herself. 

\--

Bucky gets back a little after 6 o’clock and just in time for dinner. 

“Are you ready to go? Morita is picking us up in twenty minutes.”

“Go where?” Steve asks. He’s still got oven mitts on. The calzones haven’t even cooled yet.

“You forgot didn’t you?”

“Um,” Steve stalls. He searches his memory quickly and comes up with nothing. “Yes.”

Bucky peels off his shirt and throws it at Steve’s head. He has good aim. It’s damp with sweat and smells like him. Steve sighs and shakes his head until it falls to the ground.

“Cosmic Cube is playing in Mineola tonight. Get your shit together if you’re coming. I’m jumping in the shower.” He’s already kicked off his shoes and has started peeling off his jeans. Seriously, Bucky’s penchant for nudity is probably half the reason people think they’re dating. The fact that they argue like they’ve been married for twenty years is the probably the other half.

“But I made dinner,” Steve says sadly. It’s not like the calzones were a lot of work but they’re best if eaten while hot. 

“That’s what tupperware is for.” 

He whips his jeans across the room but Steve steps out of the way this time and they land on top of the trash can. He shrugs and heads upstairs.

“I hate you!” Steve yells after him.

“No you don’t!” 

Cosmic Cube is the name of Bucky's band and truth be told Steve thinks that is the stupidest fucking name he's ever heard of. But he hasn't missed a show in two years though and he doesn't intend to start now. Even if it means having to go all the way out to _Long Island_ on his day off. At least they’ve got a ride and he doesn’t have to suffer through multiple forms of public transit.


End file.
